Blackfeather Woods how do i tell love from the taste of blood on my tongue?

Her howl is interrupted by the lick to her face and she wrinkles her nose and makes a face. When the voice picks back up, she offers a strangled cry and it takes several more attempts before a smooth one comes out. A high pitched wail to try and mimic the strange sound to her ears. Before she knows it, she’s tired, a belly fully milk lulling her off to a quiet slumber. The gentle notes of the woman help take her into sleep and she rolls into one arm, leaning into the pale wolf as she drifts off.